Solona Amell the Grey Warden
by Opalaisha
Summary: Why has no one else done this? I am simply writing a novel version of the first game from the female mage warden's point of view. I will be making an honest effort to include every single inconsequential detail of the game, and post it all on here. Keep in mind that more reviews and attention will keep me going, and keep the writer's block away. So please, make an effort as well.


**Hey guys, it's me! Opalaisha! I'm trying out a new Dragon Age category story. I just recently finished both games and have been wanting to tell the story through a novel instead of a game. It just seems so much more personal, and I have found that NOBODY ELSE HAS DONE IT? Wtf, people.**

**Anyway, I am hoping that yall will catch on to Solona's story and read and review. (R&R) Please? Pretty please?**

**PROLOGUE: DIARY ENTRY 1**

I can't say I remember much of what happened before I was taken to the Ferelden Circle of Magi Tower. I do remember the damp bedrock on my foot, and the ominous smell of fear and loathing. But other things, inconsequential trivial things are beginning to slip away.

I was born into the noble family _Amell_, a highly regarded royal family that earned their gold in Denerim. My grandfather aided the late King of Ferelden in the rebuttal against Arl Howe for his assassination of the kingdom of Highever. The war ended in stalemate, but they came out on top. Ever since then, the Amells have lived the high life of luxury. I was born Solona Amell, and took greatly after my mother. I inherited the trademark cerulean blue eyes, but even at my birth, I was an oddball. Unlike the entirety of my family, my hair was pure onyx black, while theirs ranged from blonde to red. That, along with the fact that we are all extremely pale, did not bode well for me when I was found out to be a mage. The Maker's humor is definitely hard to understand, sometimes.

Unfortunately, as I grew from a bubbly toddler to a lax, uncoordinated child, things went wrong. Evidence of my being a mage, became apparent little by little. I, at first, found that things started to go my way more and more. When I wanted to find something, it would come out of nowhere. When I was sad and/or emotional, the weather slowly began to change from sunny to a raging storm. Adolescent as I was, it did not take an adult mind to know that magehood was frowned down upon in modern society. I was caught… like a fly in a web.

It was only a matter of time before my parents caught notice of my powers, and as I had predicted, they contacted the Circle at their earliest convenience. It was all done in secret, or so I had heard, so that the Amell name would not be publically tainted by the stain of magic. I, now, understand why they did it.. but I was a child, still hanging on to my mother's skirt and they chose to throw me away. I wonder what happened to them… But, back to my being cast out-the Templars of the Chantry came to Kirkwall all the way from Redcliffe Castle in the country of Ferelden to take me away, and to force me into the purgatory that was the Circle Tower of Magi.

My life ended and, thus, also began that day…

**CHAPTER 1: ONE YEAR LATER IN TIME**

Is it not unbelievably frustrating to be woken up in the middle of the night? No? It really is.

My eyes opened to reveal the shiny metallic armor of two Templars. The needed to be no words. I knew what they were here for you, for I had been waiting for this night for almost a year now. One of them gave a ''come hither'' motion and I hoisted myself out of bed without question.

I found that my mind was uncharacteristically quiet as I followed them through the various hallways that decorated the tower. My eyes roamed across the walls, soaring to the ceiling where moonlight found its way in through the cracks and windows and gave us, and various Tranquils, a dazzling lightshow. Not that any of us were paying attention.

The collective mood of the Templars always gave into deterioration when it was time for a Harrowing. Whether it be because of the possibility of facing an abomination, or perhaps the anticipation of being able to finally kill, said, abomination-the tension in the air was nigh tangible.

"Come up when you are ready", said the Templar, who I knew was named Rafael as he locked the door to the Harrowing chamber behind me and began to climb the long dark staircase in front of me. I looked up the to the soft umber light at the top of the landing, and wondered what I was to face. Who was up there? What was going to happen to me?

There wasn't exactly any lessons concerning the Harrowing. It was only common knowledge that we would all go through it at one point, or another. Not that comforting, really.

I began to step up, by two steps at a time. I was ready.

"Magic exists to serve man, and to never rule over him. As spoken by the prophet _Andraste_ as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium. Your magic is as much a curse, as much as it is a blessing. The creatures of the fade are drawn to you and seek to use you as a vessel to enter this physical plane. You must prove you have the strength of will to resist temptation and use your gifts to benefit mankind."

I wringed my hands together as the Templar captain, Gregoir, quoted the Chant of Light to me. I wasn't exactly at my best right now. There was a grand total of four Templars watching me, including Gregoir, Rafael, Todal, and…

'Cullen? What are you doing here?' I asked mentally. His face chagrined as if he could hear what I was thinking. Astute as I was, I knew what he was here for. Apparently, our fraternizing was not as secret as we would want it to be. Adding that to my stress was not helping the wringing hands situation I was currently in.

The First Enchanter, Irving-my master-put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed a bit hardly. Apparently Cullen was not the only one that could predict my train of thought. He turned me to him and offered me his wisdom.

"The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, child. Every mage must go through this trial by fire. As we have succeeded, so shall you. Keep your wits about you, and know that even though the spirits of the Fade control it, your will is your own.. You—"

Gregoir interrupted him. "The apprentice must go through this trial _alone_, Irving," he addressed me now, "You are ready.

"This is lyrium-the very essence of magic, and your gateway into the Fade." He said, pointing to the far side of the room that held a pedestal. On top of it, was a goblet of what was evidently Lyrium.

My eyes narrowed as I finally came to realize what they were asking me to do. Of course! My lessons, as of late, of Spirit magic, Tribal lore, and Primal magic must have been priming me for this. Had I known, I would have given up more nights of sleep to hone my skills more. Even so, I was the best of my age group, and that was something that gave me some pleasure.

With my renewed courage intact, I walked forward passed Cullen and the other Templars to the pedestal that contained the blue substance that was already flowing strongly through my veins-Lyrium. As I came upon it, I was surprised to find the temperature was so cold around it. I would have thought I was passed all physical sensation by now; what with the sleep deprivation and extreme stress of the last two hours.

I hovered my hand over the Lyrium and that was all it took. The substance jumped forward and surrounded my body in a vice-like hold and I was transported.

The last two things I heard was my own surprised scream, and the soft whispering of a dark and foreboding voice…


End file.
